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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631657">Let me feel low</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/emryswastaken/pseuds/emryswastaken'>emryswastaken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DepressedInnit [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:47:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/emryswastaken/pseuds/emryswastaken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy is struggling with depression and can’t figure out how to ask for help. </p><p>TW! read the tags! Pls don’t read if it will trigger!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brothers - Relationship, platonic - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DepressedInnit [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>480</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Let me feel low</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy hugged his pillow, curling up into a ball on his bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was one of those days. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He felt horrible, really, but a part of him was glad he was able to tell what he was feeling. He unconsciously liked to push the feelings deep down until he couldn’t feel them anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had been so long since he had cried, and he was slightly relieved he was still able to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy was worried he would become too numb and the feeling deep inside him would slowly gnaw away at him until it was too late for him to realize. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But since it had been so long since he had felt this emotion, he couldn’t stop his body from overreacting. He knew Phil was in the other room and would hear him if he made noise, so Tommy tried to stifle his sobs and his loud, shaky breaths. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He put his earbuds in, pressing play on his favorite song, ‘Let me Feel Low’.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy buried his head under his blankets, attempting to calm his rapid breathing. He forced himself to focus on the song, ignoring the fact that his hands felt light, almost as if he was fading away. He knew he was at the center of this panic attack...well, was it a panic attack? He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it would pass. He had to remember that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Just let me feel low, let it by.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The words of the song relaxed him and he closed his eyes. He ignored every thought that came to his head and listened to the words of the song.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Let it eat me alive, I don’t care. I don’t mind.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knew people cared about him, he couldn’t deny that. But was it bad that he felt as if he had no one to talk to? He didn’t want to burden them, or to disappoint them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy had told Tubbo about....he didn’t even like saying it. Self harming. And Tubbo was there for him, but he could tell his friend didn’t know how to help him. He didn’t mind. Tommy didn’t even know how to help himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I don’t want to be fine.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Was that true? When Phil had gotten medicine for his anxiety and depression, Tommy had taken them. He had felt a little better. Then, he kept forgetting to take them until Phil didn’t give him the pills anymore. Maybe he deserved to feel low. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Just pull my stupid head out the other side.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy hugged the pillow tighter, tears trickling down his face. He wished he had someone who could do that for him. He just didn’t trust anyone to see him so vulnerable. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he had been seeing a therapist, she suggested that Tommy confided in people about his problems. Easier said than done. Tommy had tried to vent a lot before, but in the end, he just felt guilty about it. No matter what, he couldn’t help but feel like a burden.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Maybe it’s okay to give it up.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maybe it was. Maybe Tommy could just hold it in, he didn’t need help. He managed fine by himself. Besides, he didn’t want to annoy his friends. They had plenty to deal with by themselves without having to worry about him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I never meant to see things in this way.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy remembered 5th grade. Him and Tubbo were probably the happiest they’d been.He could remember how carefree he was, how social he was. But in 8th grade, that’s when things went south. He had started living only for getting through the day. His happiness left him, and it was hard for him to do simple things. His grades started slipping, Phil was upset. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now, he was in 10th grade and he was in the same position, except he had started putting up walls. Tommy hadn’t even noticed he had done this, but by then it was too late. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I stop my feelings, make ‘em go away. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy knew he should let himself feel more often, but....how could he when he doesn’t even realize that he’s pushing it away? How is he supposed to fix himself when he didn’t realize he was broken?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>But i’ve been walking on this line for too long, i’ve been running from my thoughts for too long. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy opened his eyes, met with the darkness of his blanket. He didn’t like feeling like this, feeling useless and easily forgotten. However, it’s all he’s known. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I’ve been numb, oh i’ve been holding my breath.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hated feeling down, but he hated pretending he was okay even more. He wanted to tell people how he felt, but something inside him stopped him each time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Maybe it’s okay to give it up. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy sat up, pushing the blanket off of him. His vision was blurry from the tears, but the world was more interesting that way. Like even the smallest of details didn’t matter because all Tommy could see was a blur. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He climbed off the bed, wrapping his blanket around him and trudging to Phil’s room with some crackers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil was sitting in bed with Wilbur, who was curled up next to him. They both were in pajamas, as it was almost midnight. Tommy was surprised that Phil was still up, usually he went to bed at ten. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil noticed him standing in the doorway, smiling gently and patting the spot by Wilbur as Phil was on the edge of the bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy climbed into bed, careful not to disturb his eldest brother. He had his earbuds in still, and the song played over and over which he didn’t necessarily mind. He opened his cracker box, giving one to his dad before he ate one himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil gave him a questioning look but took the food, his mouth moving as he asked his son a question.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy didn’t realize he spoke, as he still had his earbuds in and his father quickly caught on, letting his son do his own thing.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wilbur cracked his eyes open, sitting up and yawning tiredly. He glanced at Tommy in confusion, not remembering going to sleep with the boy next to him, but then he noticed his brothers red eyes. He had been crying. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wilbur wasn’t sure if Phil noticed, but he snuggled up next to Tommy, using the boys chest for a pillow.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy smiled softly, patting his brothers hair before handing Phil another cracker. He still didn’t feel good, but being with his family helped a little. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door opened again and a pink haired man stuck his head in, his eyes immediately spotting the food. He spoke, saying something Tommy couldn’t hear because of his music. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil responded, and Technoblade climbed into bed, squeezing in between their dad and Wilbur. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wilbur groaned, shifting closer to Tommy and whispering something to Techno, most likely a curse. The pink haired man playfully smacked Wilbur’s arm, laughing when he hit him back</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy pulled out two crackers, handing one to Phil and one to Techno, who ate it in a matter of seconds.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wilbur glanced up at Tommy, and brought his hand up to the boys earbuds, tapping on them lightly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy sighed, pulling one out so he could hear his family. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I have a cracker?” He asked, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out at his brother. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy chuckled and gave him a cracker, then giving the box to Techno. He knew that they knew Tommy wasn’t okay, as he would be chatting off a storm with them, but they didn’t mention it. Tommy was grateful for that. He didn’t know if he could talk about it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Technoblade gave a handful of crackers to Phil, then gave half of one to Wilbur who then whined in response, but didn’t leave Tommys side.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighed, pulling the blanket over him and closing his eyes, feeling Wilbur’s hair tickle his chin. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a couple minutes, the sounds of chewing faded as they grew tired. Phil turned off the light, settling down in bed after saying goodnight to everyone. Technoblade stretched, complaining about the lack of space and moved to the end of the bed. Then, threatening Wilbur who had kicked him almost immediately. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy couldn’t sleep, and he was pretty sure Wilbur wasn’t either. He stretched, opening his eyes and nearly sneezing from his brothers hair in his face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wilbur pulled away, smiling softly. “You alright now, Toms?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy shrugged, averting his eyes from his brothers gaze. He knew that if anyone, Wilbur was the best to talk about things with. He listened and had the best advice on seemingly everything. But, Tommy didn’t know where to start, or how to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wilbur seemed to sense this and he placed his head on Tommys chest. “If you ever want to talk, I’ll be here. We love you, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tommy smiled, tears pricking at his eyes from his brothers words. He wished he could tell him everything, he wished he knew how to be better, to be happy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wished he knew how to fix himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
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